


The Story of His Eyes

by I_See_The_Stars_15



Series: The Tales of Terror [2]
Category: Hermitcraft RPF, MindCrack RPF
Genre: Backstory, Flash Fic, Gen, Graphic Description, Kinda, No Dialogue, Unethical Experimentation, be careful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:54:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26874007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_See_The_Stars_15/pseuds/I_See_The_Stars_15
Summary: What made a human? What made a monster?What made Etho, and which one of the two was he?
Series: The Tales of Terror [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1993450
Comments: 2
Kudos: 50





	The Story of His Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> tw: a few descriptions of blood and violence that might be considered graphic

Two eyes, one black, one red. The hermits think the red is abnormal, think his eyes were born black. They don’t know they were wrong, didn’t know he was born from blood and ice. Red like his eyes, white like his hair. He was an experiment gone wrong, or perhaps went right. His makers wanted a weapon and they got it; they just didn’t expect their weapon to turn against them. He remembered how their blood looked like against snow and thought it must be his reflection. Red seeping into white, knowledge seeping into his bones the more his thoughts take shape.

They were horrifying thoughts, the things his mind came up with. He knew how to kill before he knew how to breathe, and it soon reached the point where the smell of blood was all that filled his lungs, and it burned but he had no choice. He woke up surrounded in white, too bright to be natural yet it looked too much like his hair and his skin and he knew he was not natural. He was floating and floating and yet everything around him was planted on the ground and he knew he was not natural. They were whispering when they let him out of the tube, and their heartbeats were louder than their words and he knew he was not natural. Then he broke glass then broke skin, making murals out of bodies as he ran outside in the snow and he knew he was not natural. 

They called him a monster, wonderful in the way something terrifying was wonderful, beautiful in the way something deadly was beautiful. They seemed to know what he was capable of yet knew not what he could do and so he showed it to them in displays of cracked ribs and burst organs, looking like twisted flowers blooming in the snow. They struck back, a bullet hitting his right eye and the color red seeped right out, leaving it black and hollow and looking oh so normal. He didn’t know being made normal was not supposed to hurt like that. One eye black, one eye red. Made human through pain, made monster to give pain.

He had nothing but the knowledge of how to fight, of how many minutes it takes for one to drown, and where to find poisons to make the process quicker. They didn’t call him a name but he knew what he was: an experiment of morality, of how far a monster can be made to look human. His red eyes and white hair were not human, yet he wasn’t the monster they made him be. 

EthosLab. Created to destroy, artificial morality. It’s fitting in an odd way, and so he wears it on his sleeve alongside the drying blood. He’ll carve out his path in the artwork he can claim as his. Red seeps into white, and they seep into him in turn, making him what he is.

**Author's Note:**

> Shorter than normal, but a quick look into one of my headcanons for Etho's origins. This man is such a cryptid I love him for it. Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
